


and all of these emotions (are pouring out of me).

by flustraaa



Series: man on the moon [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Criminal Minds RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxious Spencer Reid, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Spencer Reid, I hate tagging stories good god dude, Retrograde Amnesia, Sad BAU Team, Sad Spencer Reid, Sleepy Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Angst, eventually happy ending, fluff/angst, unless???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24476347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flustraaa/pseuds/flustraaa
Summary: Derek closes his eyes, resting his head against the wheel as he tries to catch his breath. JJ spares a glance at the Spencer who is still sound asleep in the backseat.“it’s like...” he pauses, rolling his eyes, “it’s like the soundtrack of this kid’s life is getting hurt again and again and we just have to watch.”“did you just compare Spencer’s life to a Kid Cudi song?”
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan & Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss & Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ” Jareau & Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid & David Rossi, Spencer Reid & Penelope Garcia, Spencer Reid & The BAU Team
Series: man on the moon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792693
Comments: 34
Kudos: 517





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a one shot but it’ll probably end up being somewhere between like 2-5 chapters. i don’t foresee it being much longer, but i genuinely don’t know.

It’s nearing five in the morning when Hotch walks into the waiting room, there’s a barely suppressed look of anxiety in his eyes and those who still have their eyes open misread it, immediately beginning to fall apart. It’s what Aaron says next that throws them through a loop. 

“He’s awake,” as they start to rise, he shakes his head. 

Penelope’s eyes well with tears as she stares at him, “That look isn’t good, that look is _never_ good. Hotch what happened in there?” 

“I need you all to sit tight, and when I bring him out, don’t pounce. I know you all want to hug him, and reassure him but we know Reid doesn’t like the attention normally, especially not now,” he says sternly, making eye contact with each individual agent.

“Hotch,” Morgan snaps, rising to his feet, “What the _hell happened_ in that hospital room?” 

They stare at each other for a long moment, and it’s so silent a pin could be heard dropping from the hallway; and then Penelope gasps. 

“Oh, Reid! My Junior G-Man.” she breathes, cataloging his split lip and bruised face. She watches as he nervously takes his bottom lip between his teeth, hands folding around themselves and eyes looking absolutely everywhere but his friends. “What’s wrong?” 

His eyes snap up to hers, and he swallows a few times, but before he can open his mouth to respond, JJ speaks for him, “You don’t know who we are, do you?” 

He slowly looks at her, arms crossing over his frame, fingers fidgeting as he goes. A few moments pass, before he shakes his head softly, guilt-ridden in his eyes as he offers up a shaky, “I’m _sorry.”_

“He has Retrograde Amnesia,” Hotch says, and from where Reid hides behind Rossi they he can’t quite gauge his reaction, “They don’t think it’s permanent, but there’s no way to know for sure.” 

“Hey, Reid?” Morgan inquires, all earlier anger dissipated. “How old are you?”

He blinks at Morgan’s words, unconsciously taking a half step back— Morgan doesn’t quite blame him, Reid doesn’t seem much older than when he was at CalTech and the years of wariness from bullying don’t fade that quickly.

But still, Reid answers. 

“Agent Hotchner told me that I’m twenty-nine,” He states, as a matter of fact, his motions however are unsure, they lack all of Reid’s normal factual confidence, “but, um, I can only remember up until I was sixteen. I... have—“ he hesitates, flinching, “I had one degree and always wanted to work for the FBI.” 

JJ nods, encouraging him in a motherly way, “I’m JJ, and I’m _really_ glad you’re okay.” 

And that’s how it starts, they go around the circle one by one, reintroducing themselves to their best friend. He’s the one who knows _everything_ , but he can’t even remember _himself_. 

  
  


“This is...” he swallows hard, fidgeting with the keys, “this is my apartment?”

“It is, Boy Wonder,” Garcia says softly, “the silver key is the way in.”

“Agent Garcia?” He murmurs after a long pause, licking his lips nervously, “Where’s my mom?”

“She’s in Las Vegas, sweetie,” Penelope replies, voice soft as she looks at him. He’s still adverting his eyes, and she’s noticed that he walks with his toes facing inwards, rather than his normal slightly outward stance, “When you were eighteen you moved her to Bennington Sanitarium. She’s safe, and happy.”

His only acknowledgement comes in the form of a rather guilty look, and a brief nod before he opens the door.

He stands in the middle of room for a moment, blinking at the floor to ceiling bookshelves and uniquely Spencer-esque room. He seems lost in his thoughts, taking a few steps forward to run his fingers over the spines of his books, lips parted in wonder.

“I can’t _wait_ to read of all these again,” He breathes, more to himself than to Penelope. Her heart aches, only Spencer would be able to find something to look forward to in such an experience.

“Hey, Spencer?” He pivots, coming back down to earth as he looks at her. She gets caught in her thoughts, eyes sad as she glances over him. _Why do bad things always happen to him?_

“Agent Garcia?” He mumbles softly, playing with the thread at the bottom of his sweater, “What... um, what did you need?”

“Oh, right!” She sniffs, coming back to life, “We need to get you some clothes, you’re staying with one of us for a few days, just to make sure you’re all settled.”

He nods, “Where’s um... where’s my closet?”

“Right this way, sweetheart.” 

He follows her into his bedroom, watching as she sits on what he has concluded is his bed. He runs his finger over the shirts and ties that make up his closet, and there’s something in him that fills him with hope. This is how sixteen year old him _hoped_ he would turn out.

He stops, glancing over at Garcia to find her wiping her eyes. He sucks in a nervous breath, before walking over to sit by her, stiffening up just a modicum. He speaks after a long moment, “I’m sorry that I can’t remember you. I’m trying my best.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” She shakes her head, sending him a soft smile as he turns to face her, “and that’s okay, Boy Wonder, it’s not your fault.”

“Can you... would you tell me about you? Or me? Or both?”

“Of course, _anything_ for my Junior G.”

And that’s how they spend their time at his apartment, Garcia talking about everything and anything that she can pull about them and their lives. 

  
  


Spencer wakes up to a dip in his bed, and he blinks his eyes open. The woman who had introduced herself as JJ sits above him, Derek behind her. They wear twin expressions of sadness, but there’s a certain softness behind them, and he can’t help but wonder _why_.

“You usually jolt,” She states, and he realises he must’ve voiced his question aloud, “You’re prone to nightmares, and usually if someone wakes you up you jolt.”

He nods, taking in the information before sitting up. _They must’ve been closer than he originally thought_. Derek holds out a coffee, and a bowl of cashew butter and banana oatmeal to him, half an avocado on the side.

He mumbles a soft thank you, staring at the food.

“You still like cashew butter and banana, right?” Derek asks softly, glancing between the plate and Spencer, “It’s usually your favourite, but if you don’t like it I can make you anything you want.”

Spencer shakes his head, biting into a slice of avocado as he sets the plate on the nightstand. He sips at the coffee, before playing with the lid.

“Do you want to be alone?” JJ questions softly, a reassuring smile on her face.

Spencer shakes his head, curling his legs beneath him before he lets out a soft sigh, “I... Did you know that the healthy fats in avocado are incredible reducers of inflammation? Cashews are also really good and producing serotonin.”

He looks up when they don’t cut him off, blinking at them with wide eyes.

“What’s that look?” Morgan asks softly, coming to sit down on the other end of the double bed, “You look surprised.”

“Yeah...” Spencer clears his throat, swallowing some more coffee— pleasantly surprised to find that it’s exactly how he drinks it. “I... usually when I tell people facts like that they just tell me to stop talking... or tie me to a flagpole.”

“Not us,” JJ soothes, pulling Spencer’s attention to her. “We love you, and we _especially_ love your facts.”

Spencer hesitates again, but it’s significantly less nervous this time, “We’re friends, then?”

“You’re our best friend. You’re my little brother, and sometimes you annoy me but I love the _hell_ out of you, kid. It didn’t take you getting a traumatic brain injury to make me me realise that,” and for the first time, Reid smiles a little bit.

They must be making a similar look, because his smile fades and he slowly mumbles, “Why are you looking at me like that? I-I tend to miss social cues so I just... I don’t know what that look means but it’s something because you’re both making it and... I’m rambling.”

“It’s okay,” Morgan nods, “We know. And we still love you. Don’t worry about the small things.”

“It’s just nice to see you smile,” JJ answers, “You were in the hospital for long time, and we were just waiting to see you smile.”

“Oh,” Spencer mumbles, “How long have we known each other?”

“About seven years,” JJ replies without hesitation.

Reid takes in the information silently, before asking one final question, “Am I good at what I do?”

“The _best_.” Morgan answers, voice unwavering and factually. As if there’s no room for questioning, and the sheer confidence in his abilities makes Spencer look away. “And kid?”

Spencer looks back, gnawing on his inner cheek anxiously, waiting for Morgan to continue.

“We _love_ you, whether you remember us or not. It’s okay to need help, and we are here for you.”

Spencer blinks, looking between them before murmuring, “This feels like a situation in which I’m supposed to hug one or both of you.”

His hands shakes as he goes to reach for them, but JJ simply shakes her head, “You hug us when you’re ready.”

“What if I’m _never_ ready?” He asks, guilt clouding his face.

“That’s okay too.” Morgan palliates, “Like I said kid, we love you _no matter_ which version of you we have.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hey Spence?” He glances up from the book in his lap, but it’s in the seconds before she speaks that for a moment she sees the Spencer she knows— lost in a book, the finished ones stacked in a heap beside him.

“Hotch said he think it would help if you want to come to Quantico. You can start with the therapist if you’d like as well, but if you’re not ready you can just hang out with us. It’s all paper work for the next few days,” He stares at her for a long moment, before nodding.

He shuffles around, grabbing a few books before rising to his feet. She waits for him as she sits on the floor, slipping into his converse and tying them, wrapping the laces around the shoes ankles of the shoes methodically.

He must see her staring as he ties the second one because he starts speaking, hands still moving, and refusing to make eye contact, “The wrapping and double knotting makes it harder for people to pull them off.”

And it’s then she realised it must’ve made a habit of protecting himself when he was younger. Distantly, it makes her remember just how far he’s come in the years she’d known him.

He slips his khakis over the tops of the shoes, and JJ speaks up, “Do you wear mismatching socks?”

He nods, licking his lips, “Did I grow out of that?”

She shakes her head, smiling at the thought, “No, you always wear mismatched socks. You told me once that you think it’s good luck.”

He pushes himself to his feet, brushing off his pants, and picking the books back up. JJ holds out his ID badge, and he stares at it before taking it in his fingers.

He follows her to the car, sitting down in the front seat and buckling up. The books are set in his lap, and he stares at the laminated card in his hand, thumb running over the numbers at the bottom.

She doesn’t force him to talk, just occasionally glances over at him. They’re at the gates of HQ when she sees him looking up at the building, lips parted in disbelief.

_He didn’t think he would make it this far,_ she realises fleetingly.

“I thought....” he hesitates, biting down on his lip to stop it from wobbling, “Sometimes, it just felt like I’d _never_ make it to twenty.”

Her heart aches for him, and she drives onward. 

“Boy Wonder, this is _your_ desk,” Garcia says, sitting on the edge with a soft sigh. “When you inevitably run out of reading material there is some in your bottom drawer, last time I checked there were six book and by check I mean the last time you _told_ me.”

Spencer takes in the information, walking past Penelope and running his fingers over the wood.

“Still drawing a blank?” She murmurs, eyes sad at the lost expression. He only nods, looking up at her— and she can see that Spencer certified empathy before he even starts talking.

“I’m so _so sorry,_ ” He states, “I can see how much this is hurting all of you, and I... I’m frustrated too, but I can’t remember. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” She says reaching a hand up before pulling back with realisation, “We love you, we’re just glad you’re _alive_.”

“This morning when I woke up,” He blurts, “Everything was a little more familiar. Yesterday, I woke to two men in suits and ties hovering over me in a hospital bed and I thought I was a science experiment— but things are clearing a little bit. You guys feel more familiar, my first instinct isn’t to run away like it was yesterday when I saw Derek, Dave, and Aaron.

When I saw them and they felt familiar I got scared. I couldn’t figure out why I felt like I knew them and I thought that with the amount of muscle and the height spread between them— I just, I thought they were going to hang my from a flag pole,” he’s sitting now, the air knocked out of him from the confession before he mumbles, “Do I talk to you guys about feelings a lot?”

“ _Never_ ,” She can’t hide the wet chuckle, and even Spencer can see the love in her eyes, “Sweetheart, you have about the emotional sharing capability of a brick wall most of the time. We confide in you, and you love us, but you never tell us what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.”

He nods, biting down on his lip before reaching a shaking hand up. He hesitates for a moment before resting his hand on Penelope’s and she can’t stop the tears that fall over her waterline.

“I promise you I am going to remember all of you,” He reaffirms, eyes unwavering— and in that moment she sees a bit of the Spencer she knows. 

“Do you want to help me take down the last case?” Derek asks, snapping Spencer out of his daze. Spencer hums, looking at him as Derek repeats the question, this time handing him a bag of pretzels and a bottle of water.

“Oh.” Spencer mutters, “Yeah, sure. Thank you.” 

“Come on, Pretty Boy— and drink all of that, it’ll help you heal faster,” Derek tells him, waiting for Reid to rise to his feet and follow him. After a popping a pretzel in his mouth, he does just that.

It’s the moment Reid steps into the briefing room that something changes in him— it’s minuscule, but Derek can see the shift.

It becomes even more clear when his eyes focus on the board, water bottle and pretzels slipping to the floor. His eyes moving rapidly over the board, jaw slacked and Derek can see his brain whirring.

It’s clear the kid is _miles_ away.

“Spencer?” He doesn’t blink, let alone flinch, eyes still focused on the board, but they’re still now, glazed over.

And then he topples over, and Morgan swears it’s like seeing a tree get cut down. He catches the kid before any more damage can come to his head.

“ _Garcia_!” He calls, hoping Penelope will hear him from where she’s sitting in her little she-cave. Sure enough, her head pops out, wide grin falling when she sees Reid out cold on the floor, “Go get Hotch.”

She nods, heels clacking as she disappears. Morgan finds a pulse, sure enough the kid is breathing just fine— _fast_ , but fine.

“Reid, hey. Can you hear me?” He taps him on the chest, resting Reid’s head gently on the floor, “Kid, open those eyes. Show me you’re alright.”

“What happened?” JJ blurts, taking Spencer pulse just as Derek had moments before.

“He saw the board and went stalk still; then he just toppled like a tree. I’ve never seen him like that.”

“Do you think it was a seizure—“

“No,” Morgan says, “I think he remembered something.”

Hotch’s eyes fall on the board, and he immediately strides over taking down the pictures before Reid wakes up and sees them again.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, and his moves his head with a grown, “Hey Pretty Boy, are you back with us?”

“Did I pass out?” He mumbles, and for a short moment there’s a fleeting moment of hope that he’ll remember _everything_ , but he _doesn’t_.

“Yeah,” Derek says softly, before easing him into a sitting position and handing him some water, “What’d you see?”

“I was in a shed,” He breathes, wiping the sweat that has collected along his forehead, “It was dark, and...”

He stops talking, setting down the water bottle to roll up he sleeves. He finds healed over scars and blinks at the man-made freckles that for his inner elbow before panting, “It wasn’t a... I got taken—“

He closes his eyes bringing up his knees to his chest and closing his eyes, “You with us?”

He nods, confirming, “I can... it’s- it’s a cognitive thing. Tell me what happened.”

“Are you sure?” When he nods, JJ starts walking him through what happened all those years ago.

Occasionally Spencer will bring something up, the first thing he remembers is the name, it’s a breathless whisper of, “ _Tobias Hankel_.” 

But more than that, it’s _hope_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok sike this is starting to look like more than 5 chapters


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pov you’re me cringing over this

“It’s a miracle,” Morgan says quietly, leaning against the doorframe as he watches Spencer breathe in and out from his spot on the sofa. “He’s napping, in the middle of the day, without being held down.”

“I just wish it wasn’t because his head is pounding,” Garcia murmurs in response, laying a blanket over him— which he latches onto and pulls tighter around him.

Prentiss walks in with a water bottle, setting it beside with Spencer’s name written on the sticky note attached, as well as the words ‘in the briefing room’ scribbled beneath it.

“Poor kid,” she sighs, brushing the hair from his eyes.

The air is sucked out of the room when he nuzzles into the touch. It barely takes a moment for them to realise that sixteen year old Spencer was touch starved and almost completely alone in California. They watches as his lips form the word ‘ _mom_ ’ before lapsing back into his chorus of exhausted breaths.

“We should... we should leave him alone,” Hotch manages after a moment or two, “Let him rest.”

They all nod, filing out of the room as Hotch reopens a bit of the curtain for some light, before flipping the switch for the artificial ones that normally light the room.

Consequently, he’s the last one to enter the briefing room, everyone sitting with sadness in their eyes and heads hung lower than normal.

“What do we do?” It’s Penelope’s voice, hopeless and distraught, “He’d know what to do if it was anyone else.”

There’s a silence— though it speaks more as a unanimous agreement. But then Rossi sighs, and starts speaking, conversation tilting dramatically on its axis.

“Of all the things he could have remembered,” Rossi whispers, tone devoid of any positivity, “why did the first memory have to be Hankel?” 

“The world just keeps throwing the kid curveballs,” Morgan sighs, running his hands over his face. “It’s not fair, but it’s just how it seems to be for him. ”The kid gets taken, gets addicted to drugs, starts getting migraines, and forgets us all before he turns thirty.”

And so again Penelope asks, “What do we _do_ guys?”

The room is silent, and it remains that way for an hour.

“I guess we just... keep trying to reintroduce him. Fill in the blanks, remind him that we’re here for him,” Rossi states, shrugging helplessly, “and for now that’s just going to have to be enough.” 

Spencer ends up sleeping until they leave the office that night. Hotch avoids his office like a plague, taking Spencer’s desk to avoid disrupting him. 

Eventually the time comes when they have to wake him, and unsurprisingly JJ and Derek volunteers. Somethings changed in him since that morning, it’s evident the moment JJ rests her hand on his shoulder.

Morgan watches him jolt similarly to the way he had when he’d woken him during the case in Las Vegas three years prior. His eyes shoot open and his hand finds JJ’s. She can feel his hear pounding beneath his shirt, and it makes her ache for him.

“You alright?” Derek asks, sitting on the coffee table and holding out the water from earlier to Reid.

He doesn’t respond at first, just taking the water from him and drinking it all at once. They figure Penelope must’ve been watching because she brings in two more, one of which he drains entirely. The other he just holds onto as he catches his breath.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “you startled me. I didn’t mean to jump like that.”

He raises himself to sir, looking at the blanket before moving his eyes to the curtains. He opens his mouth, and closes it taking another sip of water.

“You’ve been out since about two thirty,” Derek states before he can ask, “Will and Henry are coming back from their trip to visit JJ’s parent, so you can stay with Rossi, or myself, or Penelope, or really any of us.”

“Will and Henry?” Spencer’s eyebrows furrow, “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“Will is my boyfriend and Henry is our son,” JJ explains, “but he’s your Godson.”

Spencer swallows the water in his mouth, not without coughing on it. He’s quiet for an unsettling amount of time, “I have a _Godson_?” 

JJ nods, “He adores you, calls you Uncle Spencer. He even dressed up as you for Halloween.”

A soft smile winds its way onto Spencer’s lips before he sighs, running his hands through his hair, “I think that... until I remember him I should probably stay away.”

“No problem kid, you just need to tell us who you want to stay with with.”

Spencer scratches the back of his neck, sipping down the rest of the water before sighing. After a few minutes he finally says, “Either you or Penelope”

“I think you’d be more at home with Derek,” Penelope sends him a warm grin, sending a silent message that she’s not trying to push him away, “His house is bigger than my apartment, and you’ll actually be able to sleep in a bed. I can come with you guys though, we can have dinner.”

Reid finds himself nodding, and after a brief hesitation he finds himself whispering, “Please.” 

When they arrive at Morgan’s, Spencer makes his way in, jacket clenched between the arms he’s coiled around himself. It’s all fine and dandy until Morgan realises Clooney is roaming free, and Spencer is still blessed with a fear of dogs at age sixteen.

But when he walks in, Spencer’s sitting on the floor criss cross applesauce rubbing Clooney’s stomach and it’s enough to make Derek freeze at the sight.

“Such a good boy, Clooney,” He mumbles, grinning to himself.

“Hey Reid?” Morgan finds himself asking, “Is Clooney wearing his collar?”

“No, why— _oh_. I knew his name,” He blurts dumbfounded, before whispering to himself, “I knew his name. Morgan— I _knew_ his name!”

There’s a childish excitement to the way Reid grins, and for once Morgan can’t help but think, maybe the world isn’t so cruel after all. 

That thought however, is short lived. It’s two nights later, at three in the morning when Morgan stirs awake, he’s not sure what awoke him, but he reaches for his gun taking the stairs two at a time. When he reaches the kitchen, the lights are on and he holds his gun up before rounding the corner.

What he finds though, is almost more startling than any intruder. Reid’s sitting criss cross applesauce on the marble of the kitchen island. There’s a case file open across his lap, papers slid across the table.

Chestnut brown eyes trace from the file up until they see Reid’s face, and it’s that’s sight itself that spurs him to action.

The kid is clinging the edge of the counter for dear life, eyes closed and face contorting in pain. It’s right as Morgan opens his mouth to grab Reid’s attention that he starts to topple again.

“As soon as you’re back, I’m going to _kill_ you,” Morgan hisses, slowly easing Reid onto the floor. He waits there for what he considers to be the longest fifteen minutes of his life before Reid’s eyes flutter open

He waits for an apology, something, _anything_. 

Reid lifts his head, glancing around before letting his head fall back onto the hardwood with a heavy sigh, before he blurts out, “ _Shit_.” 

Morgan blinks at him, “That’s _all_ you have to say? It’s three in the morning, and you passed out and almost cracked your head open on my floor— and _all you have to say is shit_?” 

Reid’s eyes snap open, staring at Morgan as all of the emotion from the past few days comes to a head. “Reid you’ve scared the living shit out of me more times in the past five days than you have in the last seven years! I carried your limp body to the stretcher from where you managed to get your unconscious ass into a meat locker! I’ve watched you pass out twice in the last week, and I’ve had to deal with my little brother not knowing who I am? Do you know what that’s _like_?”

He’s heaving by the end, and he doesn’t realise Reid’s backed himself into the corner until it’s too late. He’s brought the wall that he had when they first saw him awake less than a full week ago.

“Reid— I-I’m sorry, I didn’t, I’m so sorry Kid.” All the anger leaves him at once.

Reid’s hands are pressed against the hard wood, several shades paler than normal and breathing laboured. “I have three Doctorates and two bachelors. I got waived for all of my physical training at the academy. I was in love with JJ for the first three years I worked with her. I was kidnapped. Elle and Gideon left my just like everyone.”

But Reid’s not even in the room with Morgan, and it’s then that he realises he’s not even the reason Reid’s backed away. He’s trying to cement himself, prove it’s not a dream.

“Keep yelling at me,” Reid whispers, “Please, keep yelling at me.”

“I can’t.” Morgan says, inching closer but Reid shakes his head.

Reid’s voice is desperate, “It’s _helping_ , please, just—“

“I can’t.” Morgan asserts scooting closer, “I _can’t_ be _mad_. Not when you’re shaking in the corner of my kitchen. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“I just _want_ to remember,” Reid whimpers, and the walls of the dam finally break. He grabs the cotton on Morgan’s chest as his eyes fill with tears, “Please keep yelling at me, I just want to remember!”

He pounds his fists weakly against Morgan’s chest and torso until the exhaustion fully takes over, and he’s left to crying against Morgan’s chest.

“I’ve gotcha kid,” Morgan breathes out, holding him tight and rubbing a soothing hand over his back. “I have you, you’re okay.”

Reid shakes his head, “It _hurts_. I just want to remember, please keep yelling... _please_... jus’ ‘ell a’me.”

And it’s on the kitchen floor that Morgan sits with him until he falls asleep, refusing to move until well into the morning when Reid wakes up.


	4. Chapter 4

When Spencer wakes up on the the floor of Morgan’s kitchen, head resting on his friend’s thigh, he scrambles. Within ten seconds of waking up, he’s sliding across the floor and staring at Morgan who just stares right back.

“ _Congrats_ Pretty Ricky,” Morgan sighs, “You almost killed yourself last night.”

He nods, eyes unable to meet the gaze of the man across from him, “I know.”

“Was it worth it?” He questions, expecting a negative response, or an apology, but instead he receives a narrow glower from the kid.

“Yes.” There’s absolutely no hesitation in the response, “And maybe if you would have yelled at me like I asked—“

“I’m going to draw the line right there. You were shaking in the corner of my kitchen and when I refused you started sobbing, it wasn’t worth it to me.” Morgan hisses, glaring back with just as much intensity.

“I know what it’s like,” Spencer growls, “But instead of you not knowing me, I can’t remember anything from the last thirteen-point-six years of my life. Do _you_ know what it’s like to only get little moments of _thirteen_ years of your life, and every time you get them it’s only little flashes that make your brain shut down?

Do you know what it’s like to look at your friends and see the pain they’re going through and know that you physically can’t do anything to stop it! More than that to you know what it’s like when your friend swears he’ll do _anything_ to help you through it, but the second you ask him to do something he can’t because it’ll hurt him? Do you know what it’s like to lose _half_ of yourself and not know if you will ever, _ever_ see it again?” He’s panting by the end, the tears returning in his eyes. “Because I do, and it makes me wish I had _died_ in that meat locker.”

“ _Spencer_ —“ Morgan starts, guilt welling in his stomach.

“Don’t,” he hisses back through gritted teeth, “I just want to go home, and I want to be _me_ again.” 

  
  


“Has anyone seen Boy Wonder?” Garcia asks worriedly, “I haven’t seen him since he came in with Morgan this morning, and even then he was despondent at best.”

There’s a murmur of negatives from across the room, and Garcia sighs, mumbling to herself under her breath as she disappears back down the hall.She sits at her desk, considering tracking his phone when she hears shuffling from inside the storage closet at the back of the room.

She turns, mildly concerned that a raccoon got into the she-cave, but she rises to her feet regardless slowly turning the door handle to open it.

Sure enough, Spencer’s sitting on the floor with a book opened on his legs and a bottle of water in front of him.

“Oh. Junior G,” She says softly, voice sad, “Why are you in a storage closet.”

“It feels safe,” he mumbles, but not without debating if he should tell the truth or not. “It’s nice and tight and it feels safe. Would you close the door?” 

She makes her way in, closing the door behind her and Spencer blinks, “I thought you didn’t like tight spaces?”

“I don’t, but I love— wait, did I tell you that?”

“The claustrophobia thing? No— well, yeah, a while ago, but I probably would’ve noticed regardless, that’s why they upgraded your...” he trails off, meeting her gaze. He nervously thinks to add, “I’ve been getting things in flashes. I fainted again last night, and Morgan started yelling at me and I remember a lot of little things but they’re still fuzzy. I can’t remember much after Gideon left.”

“You fainted again?” She inquires, continuing once he nods, “Did you hit your head?”

“No. But I had a complete mental breakdown on Morgan and fought with him this morning,” he says, taking a sip of the water, “And it’s dark in here too, my head hurts.”

“How long did you sleep?” Penelope asks softly, taking careful the bags.

“Including the time I was unconscious _before_ Morgan almost murdered me... three hours, twenty three minutes and.... forty seven seconds.” He says it with a curt nod, and a weight lifts off of Penelope’s shoulders.

“How are you other than the memory loss?” She murmurs.

“I can remember pretty much all of the conceptual stuff I know... like my Doctorates and BAs— I think I could profile if I had to. I can remember really weird things.. like, your favourite breakfast is a warm blueberry croissant with chocolate drizzle. You love almond milk in your coffee. Morgan is from Chicago, JJ used to collect butterflies, Rossi is an avid hunter, Hotch has a son named Jack, and his wife was killed by the Reaper,” He stops, taking of his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “But there’s just so much missing. I can’t remember any of your personalities other than what I’ve seen, I can’t remember any of our cases, it takes me forever to recall older profiles.”

“Hey,” Penelope grabs his hand when he starts scratching his thigh, and he flinches but relaxes almost immediately. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s only been a week.”

“I’m sick of feeling lost, Pen,” he breathes out, words hitching, “I could _always_ rely on my intellect but now I don’t even have that to protect me. I don’t know who I _am_ , only who I _was_ and it hurts so bad.”

She just sends him a soft smile, “Let’s see if you already know what I’m going to say, yeah?”

“I need to rest to get better?” He mumbles, a pout firm on his lips.

“ _Bingo_ , Boy Genius.” She grins, “if you lay down on the couch now, I’ll even read to you until you fall asleep.”

He pretends to turn the idea around in his head, which causes her to chuckle. He slowly stands, before holding a hand out to Penelope.Once the light illuminates his face, it becomes evident that when his voice was hitching, it was more on sobs than on rogue breaths.

“Oh, Boy Wonder,” She sighs, “What am I gonna do you with you kiddo?”

He just sends her a half smile, lips quirking slightly at the corners before as he looks at her. But then, he does something so out of character, she would almost swear she was in a different dimension.

He wraps his arms around her, holding on tight, face buried in her shoulder while he tries to calm himself. His shoulders shake with an onslaught of sobs, and she can’t help but whisper, “Oh sweetheart, it’ll be okay.”

He finally manages to gather himself enough to lay down on the futon in the back of her office, out like a light almost as soon as his head hits her ladybug pillow pet. She occasionally turns away from the monitors to check on him. After a few hours, she hears a soft snore, and at first she swears she hallucinated it or perhaps even caught herself by accident, until one by one they trickle from Reid’s parted lips.

She turns, a hand over her heart. Slowly she rises, tucking a blanket around him and brushing the hair out of his eyes. “Sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite, my sweet Boy Wonder.” 

“Do you _really_ think he’s ready for this?” Those are the words that draw Spencer out of his nap, it’s hushed whispers in the hall that he’s fairly confident are Morgan and Hotch going back and forth.

“We should try—“

“Hotch, are you _listening_ to yourself? Reid blacks out when he _thinks_ too hard, it’s not safe for him to be chasing serial killers.” Morgan voice is bordering on a growl, and Spencer rolls over to see if Penelope is still in the room with him.

“I’ll make the final decision after the briefing, but I think getting into the field is exactly what he needs. That’s not to say that he’ll be taking down unsubs left and right, we just need to do what we can to bring....” their voices fade with their footsteps, and Reid brings a hand up to his face, rubbing his eyes before rising to his feet.

His bones crack pleasantly, and he lets out a sigh, pushing open the door open and walking in the direction of the briefing room. His arms are crossed over himself anxiously, he’s standing on the stairs, just outside of their view as they talk.

He listens, eyes closed as he sorts through the information, praying to god he does blow it by passing out and alerting them to the fact that not only was he eavesdropping, but he was, as Morgan put it, ‘ _thinking too hard_ ’.

But then, he realises with a start, he recognises the patterns and trends of their unsub.

“So what?” Emily sighs, “We have a schizophrenic with fractured delusions?”

“No,” Reid states, voice firm as he enters the room, “We have someone severe psychosis, and more likely than not they have two or more identities.” 

He sees the looks they all exchange, but he focuses his attention on Hotch, “I want to come with you.”

Hotch stares at him, “Are you up for it?”

Spencer’s answer is simple, “ _always_ , sir.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe pls remember to comment i really like reading them.


	5. Chapter 5

Reid makes it through his first case back, and true to Hotch’s words he’s not allowed to go into the field unless it’s the Medical Examiner’s office, and even then he’s kept on a tight leash.

It’s _killing_ him more than the memory loss ever did.

It’s three weeks after when he finally begins to snap. They’re all in the conference room, and Reid can feel _all_ of their eyes on _him_ as he stares at the board in front of him, marker in hand and uncapped. The letters rearrange more and more the longer he stares at the board and soon he’s rewriting the code in electric blue below.

“You think he’s back?” Emily whispers, and if he thinks about it he can almost see the way she leans into Morgan in an attempt to go unheard by Spencer.

“I dunno,” Morgans sighs, “but it’s a start.”

“I can _hear_ you,” he snaps from where he stands in the front of the room, his pen not once halting, “I’d appreciate it if you _didn’t_ talk about me literally right behind my back. I _was_ concussed, and I’m not stupid.”

“Sorry,” Emily mumbles, taking a seat in the chair to the side of him, which only earns her a sharp glare over his shoulder before he returns to writing.Behind him, the team shares a look and Emily sighs, rising to her feet to stand beside him as she looks over the data. “How’s your head?”

“I’m not made of porcelain,” He hisses.

“Okay. You and I are are going on a little _walk_ ,” She orders, taking the marker from his hands despite his protests, setting her palms on either side of his shoulders as she directs him out of the room.

“I was in the _middle_ of something,” He growls, crossing his arms over his chest as soon as the door the the precinct shuts behind them.

“Yeah, you were in the middle of being an asshole. Sit.” She sits on the curb, rolling her eyes as her glares at her— he just looks like a mad bunny, “sit. Don’t make me start treating you like a child.”

He just stares, refusing to sit; letting out a heavy sigh she does something she never thought she’d have to, “ _Five_.”

Something in his eyes shift and his fingers twitch, arms now uncrossed at his sides, “ _Four_.”

“Emily I’m not a _child_ —“ he argues, gesturing wildly.

“ _Three_ ,” she states firmly, and the sixteen year old side of his brain takes over as he sits down on the curb beside her, lips pulled into a pout.

“What happened to the sweet and anxious, Reid?” she questions, not harshly, and Spencer realises at once that there’s only concern in her voice, “Because the Reid I’m seeing is the same one that I saw when you were at your worst. We’re here for you, and I know it’s been hard, and I know we _can’t_ understand what’s going on in your head on a _normal_ day, but you’re not making this any easier, Spence.”

He’s silent, eyes focusing on the piece of gravel between his fingers, “I’m _sick_ of being treated like glass. Ever since I’ve gotten this stupid injury everyone treats me like I’m going to break, and I’m just _not_. I can’t remember a lot of my life but I’m still _useful,_ Emily. It comes back in flashes. You have a cat named Sergio, I carried your casket, I testified for you— but I just... it’s the small things. It’s me. I can’t remember _myself_ and that’s the problem.”

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, voice earnest.

“That’s it? No telling me that being an asshole isn’t justified?” He mumbles, looking at her. “that you need to take a nap? That you need to drink your apple juice and eat your sandwich?”

“You’re right,” it’s all she says, shrugging, “We have been treating you like more of a kid than usual. I can’t lie and say we haven’t. We’re just worried and we already saw you as a kid, as a person we should protect but we’ve been more smothering than usual.” 

He sighs, “I just want to know who I am so you’ll stop treating me like I’m wounded. My head hurts, yeah, but I didn’t start breaking down until you guys made it feel like I was breakable. It’s not your fault, it’s not anyone’s I know that, but I just want to be _me_ again.”

He sighs and Emily pats his knee, but she’s surprised when he doesn’t flinch as he had been in the days before. 

She can’t help but think, maybe he’s closer than they think.

It’s nearing nine when Garcia rushes into the break room, saying that Spencer figured out who the Unsub is. When the arrive he’s more dishevelled and looks far more exhausted than they have deemed preferable but they don’t bring their thoughts to the rest of the room.

He runs them through the profiles match and tells them that they missed a few details, but the initial diagnosis of psychosis with dissociative tendencies and split personalities is completely accurate, but rather than one Unsub acting as four people, he thinks it’s two people with two different personalities each.

They all watch him with careful eyes, focusing on the explanation of the weight of the stab wounds— and how the strength and anger differs but the actual maximum force that is applied could only be carried out by two people, there’s too much of a difference for one. Beyond that, they notice the way he grips his hair, and his hands move similarly to the Reid they all know. His movements are confident and are nothing like the version of Reid he was just a few weeks prior in that briefing room.

And now that they know that they’re handling this case with more information than they’d had before, they need all the help they can get.

“You’re sure you’re ready for this, Kid?” Morgan asks, holding out Reid’s gun.

“Do you mean do I remember Hotch kicking the crap out of me to get me range certified? Yes.” He takes the glock with ease, flashlight in the other hand. “I’ll be fine, Morgan.”

“How do you know that?” Morgan asks, and the desperation in his voice is enough to make Reid’s wall slip a fraction of an inch.

“Because I’m not ready to leave this team. I’ll _always_ come back.”

“If you die, I’m going to _kill_ you,” Morgan states firmly, waiting for Reid to lecture him on how that’s not humanly possible because he’d already be dead, but what he receives is almost too much to handle.

Reid sends him a half smile, and for the first time in weeks, Morgan can’t help but think, maybe the kid is finally coming back to them.

“We need to move in,” Hotch calls, turning to give Reid a once over, “Are you ready for this?”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “more than ever.”

And he was right, but they all realise at once, they weren’t ready to lose him again. Unfortunately, it’s at the same time they realise they can’t hold him back forever.

“Let’s move in.” 

Hotch is reciting the Miranda rights as he shoves the murderer in the car, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the car and closes his eyes.

“I need a drink,” He blurts as Emily moves to stand beside him.

“You’re telling me,” She mutters slipping out of her vest. “In what world do two guys with severe psychosis and split personalities meet to form the perfect storm?”

“I don’t know, but—“

A panicked scream cuts through the chatter of the authorities and agents around them, and in as instant they realise it’s Morgan.

They jump to action, sprinting towards the warehouse to find morgan crouching over a pair of double knitted converse— and the scene is just a little to familiar for their liking.

“ _Hotch_!” He calls again, “Prentiss! JJ! Get the paramedics!” 

Emily pulls back, tearing off in the direction of the first responders as the rest of the team pulls forward to see Reid lying face down between some boxes. 

“Help me move him,” Morgan manages out and if anyone notices the tears they don’t say anything.

“No don’t,” Hotch says, “I don’t know what kind of trauma he has— he got cleared of the last concussion so that bodes well but we can’t take a risk of making it worse.” 

“Hotch—“ He cuts himself off when he realises that Aaron has a point and he just falls back, simply watching the kid breathe as the paramedics carefully stabilise him and load him onto the ambulance. 

“You two go with him, we’ll meet you at the hospital.” 

  
  


“What do you mean he’s _fine_?“ Morgan blurts, but not rudely, staring at Reid as he lies on the bed, “the kid was face down on a warehouse floor.”

The doctor looks between them and Spencer’s chart, “I see he has had trauma from a previous head injury, but the CT scans we took don’t suggest anything out of the ordinary. All the bruising and swelling from his last injury is gone as well— but as I understand he’s already been cleared from it.”

JJ nods, following her words closely, “I guess we just... we just started getting him back.”

“And you don’t want to lose him again?” She asks softly, her voice full of understanding. She sends the most reassuring smile she can muster before taking JJ’s hand, “as far as I can tell Doctor Reid _will_ be fine. We won’t know until he wakes up, but he is on a sedative right now. He has bruising on his back and ribs; for the time being there’s no reason to believe he won’t make a full recovery.”

The room is silent, and she asks quietly, “Has he been blacking out? Especially after periods of... Well, they may kind of resemble a seizure. He’ll go still, and stop responding? Possibly scratch or twitch?”

They nod, sharing a look. The Doctor simply writes down the new information on her chart, “I think that it could be as simple as that. Perhaps when he was pushed— and it does look like he was forcefully pushed, he may have just been remembering something. The stress of the memory overwhelmed and he collapsed. It probably _saved_ his life if the aggressor’s state was so fractured that they thought he was dead.”

The puzzle pieces align in their heads, clicking into place with each word.

“ _Thank_ _you_ ,” Morgan finds himself saying, eyes still focused to on Reid, “I’m sorry for—“

But the Doctor simply shakes her head, “No need, I understand completely.” 

When Reid wakes up, Hotch is at his side, Morgan on the other and his friends scattered variously around the hospital room. _A variety pack of stressed Agents, collect them all,_ his brain supplies unhelpfully. 

“Why are you hovering?” He utters, voice coming out in a low rasp. Clearly, that was the wrong call because everyone who wasn’t already staring at him before definitely is now. 

“Hey, Reid,” Hotch greets, but it comes out as more of a sigh, “How old are you?”

Reid’s eyes shift between all of them as he sits up, and he realises they’re holding their breaths waiting for an answer. “What’s going on?”

“That’s the sedative, do you know what happened?” Rossi queries, leaning forward to place his hand on his knees, “Kid, how _old_ are you?”

“What sedative— and yes, vaguely, and I’m twenty nine.”

The air becomes still and thick with emotion as JJ continues the questioning, “Reid, who is Henry LaMontagne?”

“My Godson?” He asks, clearly confused, “I don’t understand— oh. _Oh_.” He breathes, “I remember.”

“You _remember_?” Hotch asks carefully, “What do you remember?”

“I got shoved against the wall,” He mumbles, sitting up with a hand on his ribs, “And then I think I blacked out, but I don’t remember getting here— am I _supposed_ to?”

“No, you’ve been out steadily all night. What do you remember from before that, Kid?”

“We went to arrest the unsub, and he slammed my head against that desk and I blacked out,” His eyes become clear with understanding and he rests his face in his hands, “and then you met sixteen year old me.”

The room is silent, everyone too afraid to wake up from this dream. JJ is the first to break free from her frozen state, sitting beside Spencer and taking his hand.

“Hey, Spence,” Emily asks softly, “What’s your favourite drink at O’keefe’s?”

“Arnold Palmer?” He states, though it comes out as more of a question, caught off guard by the question.

“And when did you stop wrapping your shoelaces around the ankle of your shoes?” JJ inquires.

Spencer looks at her, the light returning too his eyes after being gone for the weeks before. A smile curves it’s way onto his lips and he says, “Right after Henry was born, because I didn’t want him to try and do it and cut his circulation off. My favourite scarf is the purple one hanging on the left side of my closet next to the pea coat Emily brought me back from Paris as an apology, and we drank cherry merlot all night at Rossi’s. The first time I got drunk it was with Penelope on the floor of my apartment; from two glasses of boxed wine that she swears by.”

He’s grinning so wide he fears his cheeks will fall off, but then he looks around to find everyone staring back at him with the exact same look.

“It’s good to have you back, Kid,” Morgan breathes. “Thank you for _coming back_ to us.” 

“I already told you,” He states, voice unwavering. “I’m not ready to leave the team.”


End file.
